Rowena's Medal
by vanityfair
Summary: With Hermione and Ron at his side, Harry has found the next Horcrux, but soon discovers he has no idea how to destroy it. He will have to convince the one man he can't trust to help him.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is an answer to Mugglegirl's Great Genfic Challenge. So no Hermione/Snape lovin' in this one, although Ron might blush a bit when she's around. Leave a review and let me know if I should stick to romance.

**Rowena's Medal: Prologue**

It had taken weeks, but Hermione's due diligence in the face of any problem had led them to this place, this ramshackle and ruined castle that looked as though no human had visited it in well over a hundred years.

"Are you sure this is the place, Hermione?" Ron asked.

"This is it. Can't you feel the Dark Magic surrounding it?" she replied, shivering despite the summer heat.

"Let's go," Harry said. "Wands out." It was an unneeded command as all three already had their wands at the ready.

"Constant vigilance," Ron said in perfect imitation of Mad-Eye Moody. Hermione giggled, more from nerves than from thinking that Ron was funny, but she quickly stopped when Harry turned to glare at her.

"Sorry, let's go," she said sheepishly.

The tall wooden door opened on its own as they approached, its rusty hinges creaking with disuse.

"Creepy," Ron commented.

Harry nodded in agreement. "Ready?" The other two nodded. They entered with hesitant nervous steps. Looking from side to side, their wands were drawn and ready with a dozen spells on the tips of their tongues, but the front hall was empty.

"_Lumos_," Harry said, lifting his wand to get a better view. They stood in a tall room with a fireplace at one end and rubble scattered around where parts of the ceiling had collapsed. The stark stone walls gave the room a chill, and a dim haze obscured the floor.

"Definitely creepy," Hermione said as she lit her wand and looked around. Quickly, she began reciting the same Location Charms that had led them to this place. Her wand tip glowed yellow, then green, and finally a bright fuchsia color.

"This way," she said, motioning towards a door on the opposite end of the room. The door led down a rickety set of stairs ending in an old wine cellar. Hermione repeated her charms, her wand pointing this time to a bunch of shelves.

"That can't be right," Ron said, looking at her skeptically. "Are you sure it isn't upstairs instead?"

But Harry knew, even without the locations spells, that this was the right place. He could feel it. There was something in this castle. It crept up his spine and into the corners of his brain, trying to tell him to stay away. But he knew that they had to press forward.

"She's right, this is it," he said.

"This appears to be the way in, but I can't get it to open," Hermione murmured, repeating every spell she knew from Alohomora to more advanced Opening Charms. She had barely noticed the exchange between Harry and Ron, so focused was she on her task. Anything less would distract her from why she was there. Whatever dwelled in this place would convince her to leave and never come back.

"Blood," Harry said.

"What?"

"It demands blood for entry," he explained. Hermione blanched. Ron gulped, looking away.

"I'll do it," Harry said, pointing his wand at arm. Bracing himself, he whispered the spell. His skin split open, bright red drops oozing forth. Holding up his arm, the wall vanished revealing another set of stairs leading down into the dark.

"Ingenious," Hermione commented as Harry healed his wound. "It allows an enemy to enter, but he must weaken himself in order to do so."

"But Voldemort wasn't counting on me to have friends to help me," Harry said. His skin knitted back together, a puckered red scar in its place; not as nice as the one on his forehead but a souvenir from Tom Riddle just the same.

In the lead, Harry descended into the dark. The light from his wand did little to warn what was to come ahead, casting only eerie shadows on the wall. He expected to find a gloomy dungeon at the bottom. Instead, his foot sank into a rich carpet. As he crossed the room, candles along the wall sprang to life with light. The first thing Harry noticed were the skeletons—thin twisty bones surrounded by piles of dust.

They had found the right place.

"Did You-Know-Who k-kill these people?" Ron asked in a hushed voice as if he was afraid the many skeletons might hear him.

"I think so," Hermione said. "Look at them. They're arranged as if they were sitting down to…to…." She couldn't continue.

"To dinner," Harry finished for her. A long wooden table sat in the center of the room. Large candelabras adorned the table along with large centerpieces, the flowers long dead and wilted. Plates, glasses, and silverware were arranged in front of each place. It was if one moment they had all been enjoying a formal dinner party and then in the next they were dead. Some still had forks in their hands. Another had its arm raised as though taking a drink. Broken glass was scattered around from where the goblet had slipped and fallen. Harry didn't think he had ever seen anything quite as disturbing. It was a show of Riddle's power. These people might have fought fiercely before dying, but Voldemort wanted it to look like he had murdered them all in one fell swoop. Harry steeled himself. They didn't have time to dwell on the dead.

"But where is the Horcrux?"

"There." Hermione pointed to the head of the table. There sat a skeleton, a gold medal hung round its neck. They moved closer to get a better look. It hung from a satin ribbon that Harry though might have once been blue, but after centuries, it had faded to a light grayish color.

"Is that it then?" Ron asked, swallowing hard. He reached forward as though he might prod it—just to see it if it were real.

"No, Ron!" Hermione cried, slapping away his hand. Ron reddened a bit, ashamed to have been caught out doing something stupid and embarrassed that Hermione had caught his hand and hadn't let go. Harry thought it ironic that his best friend could snog Lavender Brown senseless in front of the whole Gryffindor common room, but that Hermione holding his hand in view of no one other than Harry made him blush the same color as his ginger hair. It must be love. But that was besides the point, they needed to focus on the task at hand—getting rid of the Horcrux.

"Did Dumbledore tell you how to—eliminate—the Horcruxes?" Hermione asked, her eyes never leaving the skeleton or the medal that hung around its bony neck. Harry's heart dropped. He had been so excited to find one—the first of four—that he had neglected to consider that they were to do with it once they found it.

"No," he answered.

"No?" Hermione asked, sounding incredulous. "What did you do in all those lessons? I thought he was supposed to be teaching you how to defeat You Know Who!"

"We watched scenes from Voldemort's childhood in the Pensieve," Harry answered.

"But what about that…that night in the cave?" Ron asked.

"It wasn't the real thing, remember." Harry clenched his fists in frustration. What was he supposed to do? Frantically, he searched the recesses of his mind for any clue Dumbledore might have left him, but he came up empty.

"I destroyed the diary with the Basilisk's fang," he offered weakly.

"I really don't think that's an option here," Hermione said.

"Right," he said, nodding his head in agreement. She was right. But what then?

"Did he tell you how he destroyed the ring?" Ron asked.

"No, just that he had. Although he did say Snape had helped him afterwards, when he came back." Harry spat Snape's name with all the hatred he could muster, which was no small amount. He still shook with rage to think that Snape had betrayed the headmaster's explicit trust and killed him.

"Harry, you're not going to like this, but I think…," Hermione paused. Harry shook his head, already knowing what she was going to suggest.

"No."

"But, Harry, the headmaster might have told Snape what he did to destroy the ring. And he's very skilled in the Dark Arts…" Hermione argued.

"Yeah, very skilled," Ron scoffed. But he looked chagrined when Hermione dropped his hand.

"What makes you think that he would help us, Hermione?" Harry asked, his voice rising ever so slightly. "He killed Dumbledore; he's a loyal Death Eater. Why would he help us defeat Voldemort?"

"Do you have any better ideas?" she retorted.

"No." And that was the problem. Harry had no idea how to destroy the Horcrux. The first time, he had almost died fighting the Basilisk that the Horcrux had released, and the last time, Dumbledore had been so weakened that he had been unable to defend himself against Malfoy and Snape. What would happen this time if they even tried to remove the medal from the skeleton's neck?

"All right then. He turned away once. He had to," Hermione said quickly as both Ron and Harry made to protest, "or Dumbledore wouldn't have trusted him, and not with the certainty that he did. The headmaster never would've let him teach at Hogwarts if he didn't trust him."

"Just because he was a teacher doesn't mean he was perfect, Hermione," Ron said. Hermione reddened at the comment.

"I've never thought he was perfect, Ronald," she huffed. "But maybe letting him teach Defense Against the Dark Arts was a bad idea. He was seduced back to his old ways. But he felt remorse once, maybe he can again, maybe he already does, and we just need to find him and take advantage."

"I doubt that he feels anything. The man is a monster. I've always thought there was something off with the whole situation. You have to really hate someone to kill them with the Killing Curse; you have to enjoy it. Snape is evil," Ron said firmly.

Harry watched as his two best friends argued. He rather agreed with Ron, but Hermione looked at him with an intent gaze.

"What else can we do, Harry? There are no books about Horcruxes, believe me I've looked. There is no information on how to create them and no information on how to destroy them."

Harry didn't answer, didn't meet Hermione's eyes. Instead, he focused on the medal—Rowena Ravenclaw's medal, awarded to the top student in her House century after century, until it had mysteriously gone missing so many years ago. He wondered who had died so that Tom Riddle could continue his quest for immortality. Who were these people that had just wanted to enjoy their dinner? When he turned back, he saw that Ron and Hermione were staring at him, awaiting his final decision.

"No," he said. He would not ask Snape to help him. This quest was his and his alone. He did not need the help of a cold-blooded killer. All three of them turned back and stared at the medal that mocked them.

"Maybe we could trick him," Ron said after several long silent moments.

"What?" Harry asked.

"I don't think he would tell us anything, but if he thought we were someone else…well you know how he likes to be recognized. He went mad when he realized he wasn't getting the Order of Merlin, first class in our third year, and the man calls himself the Half-Blood Price. I bet if we stroked his ego, he would tell us how much Dumbledore trusted him, how he had the old man fooled..." Ron explained.

"Including how he helped him after the headmaster destroyed the ring," Hermione interrupted. "He was the first person that Dumbledore went to. It might just work!"

"Harry?" Ron turned to him, placing a tentative hand on his arm.

"I don't like it," he said, watching Ron's face fall. "But it's the only plan we've got."


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

Harry didn't want to think what he would do without Hermione or Ron. Hermione had once again proven her skills at tracking down anything by finding Snape.

"It's nothing," she said modestly when Harry sang her praises. "You just have to know where to look," she explained. "And have plenty of patience." They were sitting in Ron's room at the Burrow, away from prying eyes and listening ears. Harry had cast the Muffiato Charm just in case anyone decided to try and use Extendable Ears. It was vital that no one know of their plans.

"So where is he?" Ron asked.

"Living as a Muggle."

"A Muggle?" Harry said confused. Why would the right hand man of Lord Voldemort choose to live as a Muggle? Shouldn't he be killing them instead?

"There haven't been any sightings of him in the Wizarding world. And after they found the bodies of the Malfoy family, I assumed that he had gone into hiding. I don't think Voldemort is very happy with him at the moment."

"But he killed Dumbledore. I would think he'd be ecstatic with him," Harry said.

"No, she's right, Harry," Ron said. "Snape did the one thing that You-Know-Who couldn't. He might be happy at first, but later he would feel threatened."

"Which is all the better for us," Hermione interjected. "He'll be much more apt to help us fight against a man who wants him dead than a man who has rewarded him greatly."

"So then how did you find him?" Harry asked.

"His father, Tobias Snape, was a Muggle, so I figured if he were to go into hiding, then that would be the most logical place to start. I tracked him to his childhood home, and asked around for anyone fitting his description. No one remembered the Snapes, but one old man recalled selling his beat up car to a Mr. Smith. He must have been in a hurry at that point because he forgot to Obliviate him. But, once I knew what alias he was using, it was simply a matter of tracking his paper trail. Wizards forget that Muggles can track things like credit cards."

"He probably assumed that anyone looking for him would be clueless about Muggles," Harry mused. Hermione nodded her agreement.

"Well, now that we know where he is and what's he's doing, all we need is a plan," Ron said.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" they heard Mrs. Weasley shout up the stairs.

"Best go," Ron said, reddening. "The rehearsal dinner will be starting soon." The three of them made their way downstairs, relishing the last few truly happy moments before once again setting themselves to the task of defeating Voldemort.

&&&&&

The plan, such as it was, turned out to be simple. Ron and Harry would watch in the background as Hermione attempted to "persuade" the information that they needed from Snape.

"But what if he…y'know…he misinterprets my meaning," Hermione said, her face turning as red as Ron's hair.

"It would probably be better if he did," Harry said. Ron looked at him sharply. "We won't let it get that far, we promise," Harry said quickly, trying to reassure them both. "But it might help things along if he thought that…well…he might get something out of the exchange."

Hermione took a deep breath. "Right, okay. I can do this," she said. But it sounded more as though she was trying to convince herself than either Ron or Harry.

Neither of the boys needed much in the way of preparation, requiring only Harry's invisibility cloak and some Extendable Ears. Hermione on the other hand couldn't look like herself. She changed from a bushy brunette to a sleek blond. She wore a black Muggle dress that highlighted her assets with a pair of high heels that took a few trips around the room to get used to, and make-up, though inexpertly applied, that played up her new facial features. When she finally let them see her, both boys were astonished at the result.

"Very nice," Harry said, giving her a whistle. Ron punched him in the arm, but even he couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"You're…you're gorgeous," he stuttered.

"Well, don't get used to it," she snapped.

"I—I mean you're pretty normally. I like your hair and eyes the way they are, but it's just weird to see you like this," Ron said, trying to regain lost ground as Harry watched in amusement.

"I just hope Snape likes it," she said, playing with the necklace around her neck.

"He will." But Harry wasn't so sure himself. Snape was a dangerous man, and he wouldn't like it if he discovered their scheme. He hoped that Hermione in this form would be able to coax the necessary information without him ever being the wiser. The less contact they had with the man the better.

&&&&&

Two hours later, they stood outside a nondescript pub in a nondescript town. For someone trying to blend in, it was the perfect place to be.

"So this is it then?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded. He committed to memory the place. After he took care of Voldemort, he would want to return here and finish his business with Snape. Until then, he hoped they could wheedle from him any information about the Horcruxes.

"You're going to be fine, Hermione," Ron assured her, rubbing his hand up and down her back. She bit her lip and then took a deep breath. Steeling herself, she sashayed into the pub. Harry smirked at Ron whose eyes concentrated on Hermione's departing figure.

"Ready?" he asked. Ron shook his head to clear it.

"Yeah, let's go."

A bar patron glanced out the window, and then looked again. He could have sworn there were two blokes standing right outside getting ready to come in, but now there was no one there. He'd only had two drinks but maybe it was time to call it a night.

Under the protection of the invisibility cloak, Harry and Ron watched as Hermione sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. "I'll have what he's having," she said, pointing to Snape's glass. He stared ahead, not acknowledging her presence.

"Interesting game?" she asked, pointing to the telly on the wall. Several men had crowded underneath it and were watching a cricket game.

"Wouldn't know," he grunted. This was going to be just as hard as they thought it would. Snape wasn't any more personable outside of class than he was in it.

"Want another, Smith?" the bartender asked. Snape nodded, pushing his empty glass over. Hermione waited before he had his refill before trying once more.

"I never have understood cricket," she confessed. She needed to get conversation established before she could move on to more serious matters, like Horcruxes and how to destroy them.

"What's your name?" he asked, turning round to face her. This sudden interest surprised her.

"Gra-Grimer," Hermione stuttered. "Eliza Grimer."

"Well, Miss Grimer…it is Miss, isn't it?" Snape said. Hermione nodded, batting her lashes for good measure. "You would do well to leave me alone."

"But I couldn't possibly do that," she simpered, sounding only slightly panicked. They had known that this might be a possibility. It was after all Snape, not the most sociable man there was. "You're the only interesting bloke here tonight."

"Interesting? What brings you to that conclusion?" He took a swig of his drink, and then surveyed her up and down. Hermione reddened under his gaze. "You have just started talking to me. I could be a thief or a murderer."

"Both very interesting occupations," she remarked.

"Perhaps I am just an ordinary schoolteacher or a banker. Would you want to talk to me then?"

"That would depend."

"On?"

"On what you did in your free time. Maybe you live a double life," she said, returning his earlier look with one of her own. Snape pursed his lips at her appraisal, obviously uncomfortable with it.

"You're wrong," he said curtly. "I'm just an insurance adjustor who wants to drink a pint in peace before going home to his nagging wife." He turned his attention back to his glass, ignoring the girl next to him. But Hermione persisted.

"Maybe, maybe not, but you are a man of secrets, Mr. Smith. I can sense it," she said softly. She ventured out to rest a shaky hand on his knee. He looked down at it sharply, but he didn't remove it, and he listened to what she whispered in his ear. Harry and Ron strained to hear through their Extendable Ears the rest of the conversation, but the noise from the rest of the pub's patrons drowned it out. A few moments later, she had him convinced. Snape straightened up and stood, his hand at the small of Hermione's back.

"Perhaps we should retire to my room," he purred. Hermione gulped, but she nodded her assent. Harry had to restrain Ron from jumping out from underneath the invisibility cloak.

"No," he whispered. "He'll speak more freely alone."

"I don't think he wants to go up there to talk to her," Ron argued, the drone of the other customer's conversations drowning out his less than soft whisper.

"We'll follow them," Harry said. "But no jumping out unless there's trouble."

"The first sign of trouble," Ron stipulated. Harry agreed, nodding his head. With that decided, they quickly moved to follow the pair up the stairs. Snape ushered Hermione into a small room, pausing just long enough to allow Ron and Harry to slip through the door after her. As quiet as they could manage they scampered into the corner and out of the way. Snape shut the door, turning and leaning against it. With a calculating gaze, he looked Hermione up and down.

"Now tell me, Miss…"

"Grimer," she finished when she realized he didn't remember the name she had given him.

A small malevolent smile crossed his face, worrying Harry. Snape only smiled like that when he was deducting points or assigning a detention. "Right, Miss Grimer, what do you really want with me?"

"I know who you are," she whispered.

"Is that so? I think that if you did, you wouldn't be so foolhardy as to let me know it." He strode towards her, stopping only inches away.

"But I admire you for what you've done. No one else has managed it…n-not even You-Know-Who," she said very softly, almost as if she were afraid that Voldemort was in the room and could hear her blasphemous claims. Snape flinched the slightest bit as Hermione said it, but his countenance betrayed him for only a moment, returning quickly to a look of calculation. "You are the most powerful wizard there is."

Snape stared at her, carefully weighing her words. Then his hand came up, and he stroked Hermione's cheek with the back of his knuckles. Holding Ron back, Harry was amazed at her ability not to pull away. She stood there withstanding his touch, leaned into it even.

"You like powerful wizards, do you?" Snape said smoothly.

Hermione nodded. "Tell me how you did it. How did you convince him to trust you?" She stepped even closer, the distance between them now mere centimeters.

'She's done it,' Harry thought. He would tell her. They would have their answers. But in the next moment, in the blink of an eye, Snape went from caressing Hermione's cheek to spinning her around, grabbing her by the hair and pressing his wand into her neck.

"I did it by not falling for poorly planned schemes such as this," he hissed into her ear. "If you know who I am, then you know what I am capable of. Who are you?"

Harry couldn't restrain Ron any longer. "Let her go," Ron yelled, throwing off the invisibility cloak.

"Potter and Weasley, I should have known. That must make you," he jerked Hermione in his grip, "Miss Granger."

"Let her go, Snape!" Harry said menacingly, taking a step closer. He held his wand at the ready, but he hesitated throwing any curses, fearing they might hit Hermione instead. She was at Snape's mercy and it was because of him. He would not let Snape take another person he loved away from him.

"Not until you tell me what it is you're tying to pull. Frankly, I'm surprised at this level of subterfuge, pathetic though it may be. You're usually the throw curses, ask questions later type, Potter," he said with a sneer.

"We need your help," Hermione answered before Harry could respond.

"My help?"

"We found another Horcrux," she admitted.

"Hermione!" Ron said in alarm. She was giving out too much information. They needed something as a bargaining chip in this desperate situation.

"He can tell if we're lying, Ronald. And if we want him to help then he'll need to know." Her voice wavered as she spoke, and Harry could see her hands trembling, but she maintained her brave front.

"Indeed, Miss Granger. But how do you know I will listen? Why not just kill you?" His hand was fisted in her hair, and he jerked her head back to look at him, his wand still pressed to her throat. "It would only take two words," he taunted.

Hermione blanched. Harry's anger boiled up and he took a step closer, but Ron put out a hand to stop him. Any movement on their part and Snape might carry out his threat.

"Because you're intrigued," Hermione bit out. Snape glared at her but released his hold on her hair, though his wand remained poised and ready at her neck.

"Put your wands down," he ordered Ron and Harry. "Now!" he barked when they didn't move fast enough. They hurried to comply, worried for Hermione's safety.

"Sit down on the bed there." He pointed them to the double bed that sat in the corner. They sat.

"Where is your wand, Miss Granger?"

"In the right pocket of my coat," she answered.

"Take it out slowly and hand it to me." When she had done so, he released her, pushing her towards the bed. Ron caught her, pulling her instantly to his side.

"Are you okay?" he murmured softly, brushing the hair from her face. She nodded and let him wrap an arm around her shoulder before turning her attention back to Snape who now stood towering over them, looking very angry.

"Explain yourselves," he demanded. Hermione started, but he cut her off immediately.

"No, Potter will explain," Snape said, looking at her pointedly. "If you want my help then I want to hear it from your own lips."

It wasn't enough that he had discovered their plan, but he was determined to humiliate Harry as much as possible. Harry took a deep breath, trying to control his anger as best he could. They needed Snape. He understood that now. The only way to kill Voldemort was to get rid of the Horcruxes, and the only the way to get rid of the Horcruxes was to convince Snape to help them.

"We need your help," Harry started. Snape raised his eyebrow. "_I_ need your help," Harry bit out. Snape waved his hand, motioning him to continue. "Dumbledore believed that V--,You-Know-Who split his soul into seven pieces. The only way I'll ever be able to kill him is if I first destroy the other six Horcruxes. We found one—Rowena Ravenclaw's medal. She awarded it to the top student in her house every year. The tradition went on until thirty years ago when the medal went missing."

"We found it in an abandoned castle in Wales," Hermione added. "But we don't know how to destroy it. You helped the headmaster after he destroyed the ring, and you were the first person he asked for after he found what he thought was another one."

"He asked for me?" Snape asked suspiciously. Hermione nodded.

"Yeah, and a lot of good it did him," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Do not speak of things you know nothing about!"

"I watched you kill him!" Harry said, standing. He wished he had his wand in his hand.

"You know NOTHING!" Snape said in a low dangerous hiss, spitting the last word with a vengeance.

"I know you killed Dumbledore. You can't deny it." Hermione and Ron scooted further back on the bed, nervous expressions on their faces as they watched the angry scene play out before them.

"I can't and I won't, but how did he come to be at the mercy of Malfoy in the first place, Potter?" he sneered. "He was admittedly a very powerful wizard. Certainly no match for a sixteen-year-old boy. And yet he managed it. Why is that?"

Harry didn't answer but clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into his palm to keep from killing Snape where he stood.

"Either you have to admit that Malfoy is much more powerful than you ever thought, or that the headmaster was much weaker than he would have liked everyone to believe."

One word--weaker--hit Harry with as much force as a charging hippogriff. He had been the one who had forced that potion down Dumbledore's throat, the one that had weakened him so that he could not defend himself against Malfoy and the other Death Eaters. And for what? Nothing. A fake Horcrux. Snape narrowed his eyes, his wand still pointed at Harry, and plucked the traitorous thought from the front of his brain.

"Ah, it all comes together now," he purred. "It seems I merely finished the job which you started."

"What is he talking about?" Ron asked.

"Nothing."

"Yes, I wouldn't want my friends to know either," Snape said, mocking him.

"Will you help us or not?" Harry said, changing the subject. This line of conversation would only lead to one of them killing the other, and unfortunately, both of them were needed to defeat Lord Voldemort.

"I will help you."

"You will?" Hermione asked surprised.

"Yes, Miss Granger. I have no desire to see a man bent on destruction ruling society."

"Bent on _your _destruction" Ron muttered under his breath.

"Exactly, Mr. Weasley." Ron snapped his head up and blushed. "I see we understand each other. I am not helping you because I like you, nor do I feel indebted to you in any way. But I value my life and am much more likely to keep it if you succeed. After you have all bets are off." He held out his hand. Harry stared down at it.

_After...all bets are off_. The enemy of your enemy is your friend. Or at least your ally. Until that enemy is gone. With a firm grasp, Harry took Snape's hand and shook it.


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

After sealing their alliance with a handshake, Snape had escorted the three to a large country house that was furnished but appeared to be empty.

"Where are the owners?" Ron asked, looking around the main entrance hall where they stood. He eyed a large ornamental vase, and moved to pick it up to examine it closer when Hermione slapped his hand away.

"Out," Snape answered.

Harry glared at him suspiciously. "Out?" he asked.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, out. As in, not here."

"A step up from your family home," Hermione muttered softly to herself, but trained as a teacher as he was, Snape could hear the quietest of rebellious comments. He glared at her, but didn't deign to answer.

"You can change in there, Miss Granger," he said instead, motioning to a door off the main foyer. "I'm sure you'll want to get out of that _ridiculous_ costume." His face twisted with a sick smile as his eyes raked up and down her disguise, from the fake blond hair to the short skirt to the precarious heels. Hermione blushed red, but scurried to the bathroom nonetheless. Turning to Harry and Ron, he pointed through to the drawing room. "You, sit in there and wait for me."

"Where are you going?" Harry asked. He didn't want to let Snape out of his sight. There was no telling what the man would do next.

"To get us some refreshments, Potter. If I'm going to discuss strategies with an arrogant, inexperienced, and irritating person such as you, then I insist on having some alcohol present."

Harry stepped forward, his hand on his wand. "I am not arrogant…"

Ron grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him back. "Not now, Harry," he pleaded. Harry glanced back at Ron. He let go of his hold on his sleeve, but his eyes implored him to stop. When he turned back to Snape, he was smiling malevolently.

"You would be wise to listen to your friend. I'll be back. Wait for me here, or wait for me in there. I hardly care," he said before turning and leaving Harry and Ron in the hall. Harry clenched his fists, and forced himself to take slow calming breaths.

"He's just not as impressive without the robes," Ron remarked. Harry wheeled around and stared at his friend. "What?" Ron asked.

The absurdity of the comment combined with the idea that it was the billowing of his robes that made Snape scary made Harry erupt in laughter. His loud guffaws echoed off the marble of the floor, muffled only slightly by the tapestries that adorned the walls.

"You're mental, you know that?" Ron said.

Harry nodded but kept laughing as he followed his friend into the drawing room. He was mental. The stress of knowing that he had to find and destroy these Horcruxes before he could defeat Voldemort was wearing him thin. There were so many things that could wrong. Which is why they needed Snape, why he needed to control his temper around Snape. He would continue to push. And Harry would have to learn to not push back.

"Where did Professor Snape go?" Hermione asked, joining them. She was back to her normal self—bushy hair, a pink t-shirt, and some jeans.

"To get some refreshments," Ron said, putting his arm around her. "You look nice."

Hermione shook her head, but smiled at his compliment. "That's nice of him," she said cheerfully, overcompensating for Harry's rudeness, despite Snape's cruelty towards her.

Snape entered the room scowling and holding a tray with a bottle of wine and four glasses. Sitting down in the chair opposite Harry, he took one, filled it generously, and took a large swig before starting.  
"Do we know how the Dark Lord created these Horcruxes?" he asked.

Harry didn't bother to ask how Snape even knew what a Horcrux was. He was so passionate about the Dark Arts that it was logical he would know something even as obscure as this. Although he briefly wondered if Snape had helped Voldemort create them, but then decided that he was too young and Voldemort was unlikely to have shared that particular information with anyone.

"No," Hermione answered, her brow furrowed. The lack of information surrounding the whole subject had been a never-ending source of frustration for someone so used to finding everything she needed in the library.

"It will be hard to destroy them without that information. You must know your enemy before you can defeat them," Snape said softly, sounding much like he did in class. He stood and began pacing the room. "How did you come to know of the Horcruxes in the first place? I can't imagine there are many books on the subject," he asked, coming to a stop in front of the fireplace, his hand resting on the mantle.

"From Professor Dumbledore," Harry said.

"But where did the Dark Lord learn of them. Certainly not from the headmaster," Snape said quietly, almost to himself.

"Slughorn. He asked Slughorn," Harry answered, reaching for a glass. He poured himself a glass of wine. He took a quick gulp and instantly regretted it, the sharp taste burning the back of his throat. Snape smirked, but didn't comment on his lack of experience with alcohol.

"We should talk to him," Ron suggested. Hermione and Snape both nodded.

"But what did you do for Dumbledore?" Harry asked. _Other than kill him?_ he thought, putting his glass down.

"I brewed him a potion to draw out the Dark Magic that he took on when he destroyed the objects. I didn't realize what I was dealing with at the time. He didn't _trust_ me with that information," Snape sneered, laying extra emphasis on the word trust. He seemed upset that the man who he had betrayed hadn't trusted him further than he did. Harry clenched his fists and bit his tongue to keep from replying, watching as he paced the room. His robes billowed up behind him, reminding Harry of Ron's earlier comment, and he had to suppress a snicker

"It only worked to a point. No doubt you noticed his hand. But if I have more information I can tailor the potion better."

"Can you start that while we question Slughorn?" Ron asked.

Snape nodded. "I can brew the base and make any alterations later, if you can provide with me any information."

"If?" Harry asked, incensed at the implied insult.

"Yes, Mr. Potter, if. Now unless there is anything else I think we should retire for the evening. There are beds upstairs. I would prefer you stay here. Too much coming and going will make the neighbors suspicious, especially since the owners are in Greece for the summer months." And with that, he swept from the room. All three heaved a sigh of relief and lay back on the couches, Ron with his arm around Hermione. For a moment they were silent, each processing the last twenty-four hours—the debacle in the pub, discussing strategy with Snape, staying in a strange Muggle's home. It was all too much. Ron let out the first laugh, and it wasn't long before the other two joined him. It wasn't that there was anything funny about the situation, because there really wasn't. But it was all so unlikely that it was indeed laughable.

Not for the first time, Harry was happy to have his two best friends at his side—two people who understood him, knew why he needed to laugh now, would know later on why he would cry. They sobered too quickly and with serious and intent looks on their faces, they made their way to bed.

Left to find their way upstairs, they crept through the darkened hallway, resisting the urge to turn on the lights, unsure of what the neighbors could and couldn't see. They were quite far from the nearest house but there was little in between in the way of tress and bushes and Hermione assured them that even a hallway light might carry, insisting that they use only their wands. Harry smirked at the face Ron gave him when she said this, but they followed her advice anyway.

The first three rooms they found appeared to be empty, and two of them had the advantage of being connected to each other. Ron had suggested that they stop looking after the second room, but once again, Hermione had taken charge and had ordered them on to Ron's great disappointment. He brightened up a bit when she pecked him on the cheek, bringing thoughts of Ginny to Harry's mind. But he pushed thoughts of kissing anyone, especially Ginny, out of his mind and focused on sleeping. He was going to need every ounce of energy to control his temper tomorrow around Snape.

&&&&

Snape started the day early. In his mind, there was no reason to lie abed, especially when there were Dark Lords to defeat. Harry awoke to a loud clanging just outside his door. Bounding out of bed, he grabbed his wand, and poked his head out the door ready to fight. Instead, he found a smirking Snape who snapped at him to get dressed.

Hermione and Ron stuck their heads out their doors, but quickly shut them again in order to get dressed and ready. Counting to ten in his head, Harry renewed his promise not to kill Snape until _after_ they had destroyed the Horcruxes. The four met downstairs in the kitchen to discuss their plan of action.

"You two will go to question Professor Slughorn. Miss Granger and I will remain behind to begin brewing the base of the potion we will need to save your life after you've destroyed the Horcrux. If you happen to gather any pertinent information then we can make adjustments to it later," Snape said in an imperious voice that irritated Harry.

"Who are you to give orders, Snape?" he asked. If anyone was in charge here, it was him. "You can stay behind and brew the potion. Hermione is coming with us."

"I am the adult in this situation, and I refuse to take orders from a Potter. Miss Granger will stay here with me," he said, reaching for Hermione's arm and gripping it tightly. She stumbled as he pulled her closer. Both Harry and Ron drew their wands.

"Let go of her, Snape," Ron said, trying hard to sound menacing but failing.

"You do not need her to question Slughorn. I require her assistance with a potion, and she will serve as insurance." Hermione's eyes darted from Snape back to Ron and Harry.

"Insurance?" Harry asked.

"That you won't run to your Auror friends," Snape said with a sneer.

"I'm standing right here," Hermione huffed, wrenching her arm from Snape's grasp. "And I'll thank you not to talk about me like I'm not. Now, he's right, Harry, you can question Slughorn on your own. You've done it before, you can do it again."

Snape wore a triumphant smirk, but she rounded onto him next. "And if we were going to turn you into the authorities we would have already done so. If this is going to work, then we have to trust each other."

Both Harry and Snape frowned. "Set aside our differences and recognize that we both have something to gain by working together?" she tried instead.

"Fine, but if he hurts you, and I mean even looks at you the wrong way, then we will go to the authorities," Harry said.

"Just get going," Hermione said, turning back to Snape. He ushered her into the makeshift lab he had set up in one of the back rooms, motioning to the ingredients lined up on the table next to a brass cauldron. All the furniture, antique it looked like to Hermione, had been shoved into the corners and along the walls. In the middle of the room sat a long table covered in bottles similar to the ones that had lined the walls of Snape's office. Not the ideal lab, especially if something were to go wrong, but it was the best they could do in the circumstances. For a man on the run, Hermione was impressed he had succeeded in getting together this much.

"This should do for now, but I might require you to go to Knockturn Alley to procure some of the more rarer ingredients depending on the information Slughorn provides us," Snape said.

Hermione gulped. Knockturn Alley? She hoped he wouldn't expect her to go alone. "Why?"

"I can hardly go myself, now can I?"

"Oh, right." He scowled at her as he handed her a Potions manual. It was thick, heavy, and definitely Dark. A cold shiver traveled down her spine as she took it in her hands.

"We'll be making the potion on page 238," Snape told her. She flipped to the page, disgusted to find a picture of a man writhing on the ground, a bright light protruding from his chest.

"This looks like a potion designed to sap the magic from a person," she said after scanning the ingredients.

"Very good. A pity I can't award points any longer."

"Not that you would anyway," she muttered under her breath.

"But why? Harry is going to need every bit of his magic to defeat Lord Vol—" Snape glared at her. "To defeat You-Know-Who," she finished.

"With a few minor adjustments it will drain only the Dark Magic—exactly what he will need after dealing with the Horcrux. It will still weaken him some, but he will recover," Snape explained.

"But Dumbledore didn't," Hermione said, remembering the headmaster's blackened hand.

"He was much older. His reaction and recovery times were much slower than before."

"That makes sense," she said. Snape quirked an eyebrow, not deigning to remark. He set out the ingredients they would need according to the text, handing Hermione a knife.

"Peel and cut these into cubes two centimeters across," he instructed her, pointing to a shrivelfig. She took it and started right away. "I'll decant the rose oil and prepare the belladonna. When that's ready you can begin brewing."

"Me?" she squeaked. He was the potions expert here, not her. Why would he entrust such a task to her?

"You will be brewing the potion, Miss Granger. I will only be supervising."

"But…" she said, pausing to wonder if she should continue. "Why?" she asked, deciding that her curiosity was enough to risk Snape's wrath.

"You do quite a good impression of a toddler," he answered. Hermione bit her lip and concentrated on cutting the shrivelfig.

A few moments later, he finally deigned to answer her question. "It must be brewed by someone who cares for the recipient. If I were to brew it your friend"—he said the word with as much malice as he could muster—"would die. You wouldn't want that, would you?" Hermione shook her head. It was all so fascinating. She chopped away, mulling it over in her mind.

"Who brewed it for Professor Dumbledore?" she asked a few moments later.

"I did." His answer was short and curt. He didn't look up from what he was doing.

"But you just said…" She stopped as he looked up, fixing on her a cold stare.

"Yes."

"Then why…I don't understand…," Hermione, stuttered, her knife hovering over the table.

"I did what had to be done." Hermione hesitated. Was it a good idea to pursue this line of questioning with a known murderer? But it sounded as though…as though there might have been a reason for it, something other than he had hated the headmaster.

"Harry told us about the Unbreakable Vow," she said softly. Snape put down his knife and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was the same pose he struck when faced with a particularly tiring student.

"Then you know it was my life or the headmaster's that night."

"I don't understand," she said. She had all the facts but they refused to coalesce together in her brain. The whole picture remained fuzzy and out of focus.

"Why did the Dark Lord want Draco to kill the headmaster?" Snape asked.

"He wouldn't have expected him to succeed so he must have expected Draco to fail and then he would be justified in killing him," she said.

"The Dark Lord doesn't need justification to do anything. And his father's failure to get the prophecy would have been more than enough. No, Miss Granger, think! Why would he send Draco to kill the headmaster? What would he gain from it?"

"He expected him to fail…."

"Correct."

"He…he expected Dumbledore to kill him!" Hermione said, the picture coming a little more into focus.

"Make no mistake, the Dark Lord is no fool. He knows that fear and terror will only take him so far, but if he had a Pureblood poster child around which to rally…Draco's death was meant to unite the Death Eaters and convince those who wavered to finally commit," Snape explained.

"But Professor Dumbledore never would have killed Draco!" Hermione exclaimed. It was unthinkable, especially when she thought of what Harry had told that the headmaster had offered him even as he threatened his life.

"No he wouldn't have."

"So why…?" She didn't dare voice the rest of that thought, averting her eyes from Snape's deadly gaze. She hoped she hadn't pushed him too far.

"Because no one would mourn my death. No one would erect a memorial to me. Tell me, how determined is Potter to defeat the Dark Lord now that the headmaster is gone?" She contemplated the question. Harry had always known that he would one day face Voldemort. Even before he knew about the prophecy, he had a certain determination, a fervor about it. But that night on the Astronomy tower had changed everything.

"I've never seen him so focused, sir."

"Then you see that it served both strategy as well as my own selfish desires for survival."

So straightforward and cunning, no wonder the man was in Slytherin. She tried to integrate the differing views she had of him—spy, teacher, murderer, ally—but none of it fit. He refused to be boxed in and understood. Giving up for the moment, she wondered how Harry and Ron were progressing on their current task.

She hoped their answers would leave them surer than the ones Snape had provided her.


End file.
